Styles Games {h.s} |Editing soon|

Chapter Four

Walking into the eighth floor to go to my office, I see Theresa round up a big stack of papers. I had a fashion show this weekend that I needed to attend to see the final designs on models that my group put together. I was proud of them. I can see half of my staff owning their own fashion stores one day. I approved a couple dresses so the designers of those get to attend the show with me. It was a big deal for them and for me. They were representing my name.

Martin was under my wing to become a modeling agent. I had many models contact me to wear my designs and I've contacted many to sponsor them to get them out on their socials for others to see. I needed all the attention I could get at these fashion shows. They were a big deal in the fashion community.

Martin is learning how to manage and keep in line with business while shadowing me or so that is what I hope he gets out of it.

I take the stack before making my way into my office. The large room felt different or maybe it was just me. I couldn't stop thinking about Harry all weekend after the night we spent together. I wonder how he felt after waking up to find me gone. I was going to write a note but what would I say? 'Thanks for the best sex of my life but I got to dip because this is awkward?' that would be the most horrendous thing ever.

I've traced over many details from that night but nothing compared to how I felt. Did he feel it too? Our bodies went so effortlessly well together and nothing could erase the feeling of his lips on mine. I wanted to know more about him. Who was harry? What did he do? I growled at myself for wanting to know all these things. It was just sex. A simple one-night stand and I'm sure he has moved on already.

I hear the typical dinging noise coming from my computer. It was the annoying one that was linked to the gossip blogs. I clicked on the first one I saw in the line and felt my stomach twist when I looked at the picture of me and Harry. He had his hand on my lower back while I was heading towards his range rover.

"Billionaire Harry Styles couldn't help but stay busy on a business trip with local Star Fashion owner, Melanie Storm. These two would go perfect together if they could keep up with each others lifestyles."

Harry Styles. What a beautiful name for a beautiful man. His name matched him well and I hated that. I hated how I can't forget about him and his husky voice. I typed his name on google to see so many articles pop up.

'Two girls in one night?"

"Will this bachelor ever settle down?"

"Inside the dark world of Harry Styles"

"Abandoned by his father, Harry Styles is now the richest man in Los Angeles, CA"

He wasn't from around here which explains why I've never seen him at local events. To why he didn't bring many girls to his house either. I click off the sites before focusing on my paperwork. I felt stupid and small just to be another number to him. It was stupid of me to let myself get smothered by his charms.

I can hear my mother's laugh as if she was next to me.

My mother grounded into my head that image was everything to own a business. You don't want to portray yourself as weak because then everybody would think you were weak. If you cried, don't show it. If you were upset, hide it. If you hated who you were working against, work harder to be above them.

I was in therapy before I was 15. I guess not having my mother around took a strain on my mental health more then I like to admit. I always felt so much pressure to be like her. I wasn't though but she nailed me countless of times to do better but nothing was ever better for her. I thrived in school and that wasn't enough. She would pick at everything about me, from my looks down. She hated if my hair was styled in a way she didn't find appropriate or if I was a little puffy after a meal.

I just started to think she hated me all around.

She was a living nightmare but I still wanted her to love me like a mother should love their kid. Grandma pearl told me she never wanted kids and that I was a slip up. I guess that explained her cold bitterness towards me. I always wonder if it would have been better if she left and my dad stayed. I wonder why he never reached out to me? He didn't care either.

I had a therapist appointment after work and I was actually excited to talk about the fun I had over the weekend. I would bring up Harry to anyone that would listen. I'm sure she was tired of hearing me complain about my boring life anyways.

I think people fail to realize that just because I have money, doesn't mean I'm happy. I'm content with the life I live but not satisfied.

I felt like my childhood was my mothers and not mine. I did everything for her and never focused on myself and she decided to put me in therapy when I decided to run away one night. The cops dragged me back and my mother thought I was crazy for wanting to leave a house like ours so she called the best doctor our state had to offer and I've never stopped going since.

I actually liked going. I was able to express myself to someone as a kid.

I spent the next 5 hours taking business calls and finishing my paperwork. I wave to Theresa before making it down to the lobby and into the back of my Mercedes. It was a rainy day. I enjoyed the rain.

My stomach fluttered when at a stop light, I saw Harry escorting a beautiful blonde to his range rover. His hand was on the low of her back just like it was to me a couple days ago. His eyes caught my stare and neither of us looked away. It was like I was living that night twice. His eyes glisten with desire and then he starts to approach my car just as Richard takes off. I didn't look back to see if he was still looking. I wanted to move past him and past all the dirty thoughts that kept coming up. My heart had always been stubborn.

It was hard just to erase a feeling towards someone or even a thought. It couldn't be a feeling. I didn't know Harry and he didn't know me and I fear that is what's causing the tight pain in my chest.

How will I be able to erase a night like that with someone as glorious as Harry Styles..